


Egotober/Septictober 2019!

by orphan_account



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Coma, Egotober 2019, Gen, Magic, Multiple Selves, Septictober, non-cannon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 14:56:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20853644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Yeah uh I only did the first two days so chill with that lol.





	1. Day 1 of Ego/Septictober

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Flowers (Egotober), and Pentagram (septictober)

Marvin kneeled over the concrete basement floor, pressing his hands against the cool surface. He was weak already, before lighting the candles. 

But he made a promise. 

His fingers traced over the tile coated in dust and paint, forming a pentagram on the floor. It already hurt him, but he pressed on. His hands shook violently when he finished out of fear and drainage. He almost burned his hand. 

He spoke, addressing those he could feel enter the room after lighting the last candle. The soft, orange glow illuminated the area around him. The light would keep him safe. 

“Those in my presence, I come with a request. The revival of a friend. I was told you could help me.” 

A cacophony of sounds circled his head, each invisible speaking in mindless gibberish to his feeble ears. Nothing entered the light, only dancing as shadows against the walls. 

“I hear you require sacrifice for your efforts. What do you wish from my person?” 

He held onto his mask, not allowing it to fall. It was his only protection if the light went out, and the candles were already flickering. A wind blew through the air-tight room, whipping through his hair with a cool chill. 

“Give us your name.”

The loud demand echoed across the darkness, sending his heart into a spasm. He had heard of these being’s tricks. 

“You may call me Marvin,” He paused, lifting his hand and placing it in the center of the pentagram, “Now, my request. Can you help me now?” 

There was a density in the air, a form of stand-still. It was suffocating. The books hadn’t prepared him for the monsters’ reluctance. They didn’t say another word, just a whistle. Still, a sense of panic coursed through his veins. He knew what they wanted. 

He blew out the candles closest to his hand, leaving the rest of his body in the dimmer light. They could do anything to him. 

He felt the cool chill of gigantic palms grip his, a mix of whisp and fur brushing against his naked hand. There was a moment of silence when that chill turned to warmth, and the gripping stopped. 

He dragged it back into the light, using his other hand as a torch to examine what the beings placed into his palms. Flower petals. Glowing, soft, flower petals. 

The greenish-pink glow shone through each edge, a name engraved in the center of the burning mass. They felt soft, but brittle still. They were beautiful.

But Marvin knew not to trust the beings at first glance. 

“Are these what will save my friend’s eternal sleep?” 

A small clitter of glass on concrete slid its way behind him. He could hear a bottle of some sort rolling along towards his already frightened figure. Reaching out into the darkness, he gripped exactly that. A bottle filled to the brim with blue slush. 

“That is all. Thank you for your service.” He blew out the candle and smudged the pentagram, allowing his hands to illuminate the way towards the door out of the in-between zone.


	2. Egotober: Trap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did the septictober prompt for drawing today instead (@deadlydevine on tumblr), so check there for that! The egotober prompt this time is "Trap".

“Wake up...please…” 

Darkness. Darkness and bleakness and everything in between. It was numb and cold. It was suffocating. 

It was Jack’s reality. 

“Wake up from what?!” He yelled into the empty, tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t move, his hands felt tied down and his chest heavy. He was kneeled to the floor, barely able to see underneath except more darkness. He could’ve been falling, or sitting on glass, but there was nothing there except a warm surface.

His throat seemed to open and close at its own will, his stomach feeling empty and clogged at the same time. Nothing felt right. Everything was artificial as if he was sitting on the set of a production, center-stage. He could hear laughter and crying and yells, each less discernable than the last. 

“Yo̰̦͊͋ũ͙̜ͮ ̵̙͗w̱̩̫̆̌̒ė̸̖̜̎r̗̎e̬͕ͦ̋ ͚̠ͫ̔w̴̭̪͒̐e̶͊͆a̵k̽͂,” 

Him. That voice Jack recognized so well but couldn’t even put a name on. The stinging ache on his neck grew, but he couldn’t grab it. His hands were still tied.

“I s̓ͤ̃͏̲̪̱eę ̪ỵ͔͍͟o̪ͦu'̍ͮve̡͇ ̨̲͔͕̀͛̈́f̧ą͛l̥̘͍ͮͦͮle̫͈ͥ̈n̟ ̬͙̅̌r̒i̶̘̜g̵̰ͣ̓ͅh̷̻̥͈̾̏ͮt̩̠̦ͧ͐͗ ͙̬͘i͋̓͡n̶̟̋t̜͕̰̓ͭͯ̕o ͭ͘my ̥tr̢͙̝̙ā̞̮̣ͪ̃p̝ͤ͜, ̧̃͐ḩä̻́v̔͡e̟͈̕n̼͗'t̬̻͓͌ͣ̄ ̼͛y̛̺͖̺o͙̩u̡̩?̶͎͕̙ͪ͂̐ ̶̄̂”

“What’s going on, why can’t I move?” His voice was strained and feeble. 

“They ̴thiņk yo̸u͠'ŗe no̴t͞ worthy͏. They̕ ̶do̧n̵'t know I͟'m͡ he̵r͞e̵ ͏a͡n̢ymo͏r̕e͜. ̡Wh͢y͟ s͡o͞on,.͠..t͜hey'l҉l pu͠l̸l͘ the pl̶ug͜ !”

“Where am I...what do you want from me?!” 

Jack’s heart beat in his chest, sounding less like an actual beat and more like a continuous beeping. His eyes strained against the darkness towards the central area of the voice’s continuous laughing. Sparks of green and red lined up against his vision. 

"̛Sa͡y g͜o͏odb͞ye,̵ ̛f͟riend!"

His head pounded, and his vision was fading. The soft beep of his chest slowed until a final drawn on sound left him quaking in his misery. 

He was finally alone.


End file.
